Constable Denslow, intrusted with only scant and vague information, began his search for a supposed escaped lunatic that day.  Before nightfall he reported to the Cap’n that there were no strangers in town.  However, right on the heels of that consoling information came again that terror who travelled by night!  In the dusk of early evening another letter was left for Aaron Sproul, nor was the domicile of Hiram Look slighted by the mysterious correspondent.

Moved by common impulse the victims met in the path across the fields next morning.

“Another one of them bumbs dropped at my house last night!” stated Hiram, though the expression on his countenance had rendered that information superfluous.

“Ditto and the same,” admitted the Cap’n.  “Haven’t brought yourn, have you?”

“Wife’s holdin’ onto it for evidence when she gets her bill of divorce,” said Hiram.

“Ditto with me,” affirmed Cap’n Sproul.  “Tellin’ mine the truth was what really started her mad up.  It was just plain mystery up to that time, and she only felt sorry.  When I told her the truth she said if it was that bad it would prob’ly turn out to be worse, and so long’s I’d owned up to a part of it I’d better go ahead and tell the rest, and so on!  And now she won’t believe anything I try to tell her.”

“Same over to my place,” announced his despondent friend.

“It’s your own cussed fault,” blazed the Cap’n.  “My notion was to lie to ’em.  You can make a lie smooth and convincin’.  The truth of this thing sounds fishy.  It would sound fishy to me if I didn’t know it was so.”

“Since I got out of the circus business I’ve been tryin’ to do business with less lyin’, but it doesn’t seem to work,” mourned Hiram.  “Maybe what’s good for the circus business is good for all kinds.  Seems to be that way!  Well, when you’d told her the straight truth and had been as square as you could, what did you say to her when she flared up?”

“Northin’,” answered the Cap’n.  “Didn’t seem to be northin’ to say to fit the case.”

“Not after the way they took the truth when it was offered to ’em,” agreed Hiram.  “I didn’t say anything out loud.  I said it to myself, and it would have broke up the party if a little bird had twittered it overhead at a Sunday-school picnic.”

That day Jackson Denslow, pricked by a fee of ten dollars, made more searching investigation.  It was almost a census.  Absolutely no trace of such a stranger!  Denslow sullenly said that such a domiciliary visit was stirring up a lot of talk, distrust, and suspicion, and, as he couldn’t answer any questions as to who she was, where she came from, and what was wanted of her, nor hint as to who his employers were, it was currently stated that he had gone daffy over the detective business.  His tone of voice indicated that he thought others were similarly afflicted.  He allowed that no detective could detect until he had all the facts.